


(you lose your way) just take my hand

by abigailcathleen



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Everyone Is Alive, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Season/Series 03, Romance, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 14:35:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20743808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abigailcathleen/pseuds/abigailcathleen
Summary: “Owen’s is on me about this talking about how I feel shit, so alright, here goes. I haven’t been sleeping. Keep having fucking… nightmares, alright? So that’s what’s up with me.” He stops picking his nails and braces his hands behind him on the counter before flashing Steve a fake smile as if to say happy now?But Steve’s not happy, because Billy is his friend, okay? And if there’s anyone who knows about this nightmare shit, it’s Steve.(Or: on nightmares and cigarettes and being alone, together)





	(you lose your way) just take my hand

**Author's Note:**

> Title from 'Mariners Apartment Complex' by Lana Del Rey.

If someone had told Steve a year ago that he and Billy would have a relationship like... _ this_, he would’ve laughed in their face. Or kicked their ass. 

But this isn’t a year ago, and, shit, a whole _fuckton_ can change in that time. Steve thought he had already seen it all, the real as shit monsters that go bump in the night, that run around some mirrored, horrifying version of the town, that drag innocent girls down below swimming pools. But now he’d seen, what, Russian bases under mega-malls? Monsters possessing any regular Joe they could get their hands on? _ Jesus_. 

At the very least it was over, at least for now. And even though Scoops went up, quite literally, in flames, he still has a job, with Robin alongside him, even if there's always Cheeto dust on the cash register from Keith and Steve always gets stuck with the Friday night closing shift. Steve’s just grateful that it’s kinda fucking _ normal_. 

Well, kinda normal. 

Because Billy and Steve have entered into some kinda unspoken truce, after the whole _ Billy defeating the Mind Flayer, sacrificing himself, kinda ending up dead for a minute, and coming back to life _thing. Now they hang out sometimes in the Wheeler’s basement when The Party is in the throes of their new campaign, nod at each other at parties and dip out together to smoke cigarettes in relatively comfortable silence at the quarry, that sort of shit. It’s ... well, kinda odd considering their history, but it’s nice to have a friend, fucking nice to get _close _to someone, and even nicer to not have to worry so much about Billy beating his head in with a blunt object every time he sees him. 

Billy even comes into Family Video on Friday’s near closing, after he’s finished his shift at the Kroger where he stocks shelves: he does a lap of the place, considers the new releases, then leans against the counter and chats with Steve while he locks up, before they both head to their separate cars and head home. Steve knows he scans the shelves for show, considering he never _a__ctually _rents anything and that he does the same thing week after week. Knows he’s just looking to shoot the shit for a bit. 

Even though Billy doesn’t talk about it much, Steve knows that between existing in this town after everything that’s happened and the million and one doctor appointments that apparently follow being possessed by a literal demon, Billy’s probably looking for a little bit of normal, too, and Steve really doesn’t mind being the one to provide it. 

On this particular Friday night, though, things are a little different. _ Billy’s _a little different. And, to be fair, he’s changed a lot since, well, everything. He’s still harsh and bold but he’s… softer around the edges. His words don’t have the same bite behind them. Doesn’t walk with his head as high. 

Today Billy doesn’t even try to pretend that he’s interested in the new releases, just slumps against the counter and chews slowly on a wad of gum. There are a couple of people milling about right before the clock strikes closing, and Billy just chews silently. 

Even once Steve has flipped the closed sign and locked the door, Billy hasn’t said a word. Steve turns back towards the counter in front of the door, puts his hands on his hips. “What’s up with you today, man?”

This catches Billy’s attention, and he straightens up against the counter, avoiding Steve’s gaze. “Nothing’s up with me, Harrington,” he mutters before pulling his gum out of his mouth and tossing it in the trash can behind the counter.

Steve doesn’t buy it, and because they’re like, _ friends _now, he pushes, but keeps his tone light. “Alright, cut the shit. You didn’t look at any of the movies. Didn’t say a word to me this whole time. What’s going on?”

When Billy looks at him square in the eyes, Steve remembers the way Billy used to look at him in the locker room, the hallways, the Byers’ place, like he knew he was better than him, that he could wipe the floor clean with him and he _ would_. The way Billy’s looking at him now looks similar, but somehow so different. Like he’s trying to put on the tough act he used to. Like he can’t even though he’s desperate. 

“I said it was nothing, alright?” Billy ducks his head down, still leaning against the counter, and starts picking at his nails. 

Steve wants to help, he does, but he figures he's just beating at a brick wall. “Whatever, man.” He walks back behind the counter to grab his shit, slips on his jacket and sling his back over his shoulder, and starts to head towards the door. “Let’s just go home.” He unlocks the door and opens it to the cool November air. When he turns back to Billy, he’s scratching over and over at a nail on his left hand, slowly, so he shuts the door. “Billy?”

Billy doesn’t look up, just keeps picking, his eyes wide and fixed downward. He takes a deep breath, let’s all the air out. “Owen’s is on me about this talking about how I feel _shit, _so alright, here goes. I haven’t been sleeping. Keep having fucking… nightmares, alright? So that’s _what’s_ _up _with me.” He stops picking his nails and braces his hands behind him on the counter before flashing Steve a fake smile as if to say _happy now?_

But Steve’s _not _ happy, because Billy is his friend, _ okay? _And if there’s anyone who knows about this nightmare shit, it’s Steve. He’s gotten a decent handle on them now, but there are still some nights they keep him up past dawn, nervous and sweaty and antsy. Pacing around his empty house with all the lights turned on. Smoking cigarettes on the couch. Driving in circles around the neighbourhood with the music loud and his high beams on. 

“Shit,” Steve says. “I’m sorry.” Billy huffs out a bitter laugh at this. “No, I mean it, I’m sorry. Shit fucking sucks.”

“Yeah,” Billy continues. “It fucking sucks. But whatever. It’s fine. Let’s just go.”

And Steve knows that even though Neil is _finally _ gone, even though Susan finally kicked him out, Billy doesn’t really wanna go, not really, with the way he says _ let’s just go _but hangs on tight to the counter. 

“Hey, c’mon,” Steve reasons, moving towards Billy and quieting his voice a bit. “After everything with Barb and the shit last year and, like, the shit this year… I got them, too. Fuck, I _ get _them, too. Not as bad as before but still. I get it. Really. Shit makes you crazy.”

Billy seems to deflate a bit at Steve’s words like he’s kinda relieved but doesn’t want Steve to know. 

“Listen,” Steve continues. “Why don’t you stay the night at my place?” Billy’s head snaps up at this. “My parents are never home and it gets too fucking quiet there sometimes. We could just hang for a bit and then, you know…” He pauses a moment because he wants to get the words right, show Billy that he cares about him without, you know, _ spooking _him. “If you can’t sleep, like… I’ll be there.” 

Billy’s lips turn up a bit at the sides, a ghost of a smile. “You gonna tuck me in, Harrington?” 

And Steve can’t help but burn up a little at that because _ no _ but like, _ kinda? _ “Whatever, man, I just mean. I don’t know. I just wanna help, alright?” Steve tugs on the strap of his bag to busy himself so he doesn’t have to look at Billy’s face, Billy who _ clearly _ thinks Steve’s a fucking _ moron _\- 

“Alright,” Billy says. “I’ll bite. Let’s go.”

“_Shit, _pretty boy.” Billy lets out a long whistle. “Place’s nice.”

Steve’s never had Billy over to his place before, and he feels a little self-conscious. Yeah, it’s _ big _and it’s nice, sure, but it’s really not great at all. But he knows he’d sound like an asshole if he complained. 

“Yeah, well,” Steve says, tossing his keys in the bowl by the door and hanging up his jacket. He gestures for Billy’s leather jacket. 

Billy just shakes his head, pulls out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “You mind?”

“Fine by me,” Steve says. “As long as you share.”

They settle onto the big couch in the living room after Steve gets them some beers from the fridge and Billy gives Susan a call. They’re facing each other and Steve can already see that Billy’s loosening up a bit, like he’s letting go of some of the tension he had back at the video store, and Steve’s kinda fucking _ ecstatic. _ Billy even leans close into his space and lights Steve’s cigarette with his Zippo _ first_, and like, Billy _ never _does that. 

And maybe Steve’s a little caught up in the proximity of it all and panics a bit, taking his first drag too sharp when he realizes he actually needs to inhale and not just _ stare _at Billy’s look of concentration. He coughs a bit and smoke sputters out of his mouth, and it’s embarrassing, but it gets what sounds like a genuine laugh out of Billy and that’s fine by Steve. 

“So, your parents really aren’t home a lot, huh?” Billy says before taking a long drag of his cigarette. He holds it in for a moment before blowing it out in a smooth stream ahead of him, towards Steve, making Steve feel a little hazy. “Must be nice.” 

“At first it was, yeah,” Steve says. “Like, three years ago it was cool. Now it’s just… It just gets lonely sometimes, I guess.” He takes another drag of his cigarette and tries to blow the smoke out smooth like Billy, turning his head to the side. Steve doesn’t really know if he should really be complaining about having an empty house to Billy, who probably wanted nothing more than that for years. “What about you? Things not alright at your place?”

“I mean, things are great now that… you know, he’s _ gone. _ I don’t know.” He sucks on the last of his cigarette long and slow before stubbing it in the little glass ashtray Steve placed on the coffee table. “I swear I see him in the fucking _ walls_, sometimes. And at night. Fuck.” He picks up his beer and takes a long drink, settling back into the couch and staring past Steve’s head. “At night it’s either _ him _or it’s… that fuckin’ thing terrorizing me.” 

Steve nods along because even though he doesn’t fully know, he gets it, feeling like you can’t escape your worst nightmares whether it be night or day, eyes open or closed. 

“And Max and Susan are like, cool, you know? But I don’t know.”

And Steve gets that, too, because even on the rare occasions when his parents are home, he knows trying to talk about them would be useless, even if they gave a shit. 

Steve leans his head against the back of the couch so he can catch Billy’s eyes. “Yeah, I know what you mean.” 

They smoke and drink in silence for a bit, until Billy’s yawning. 

And the thing is, Steve knows they should just head upstairs, Billy in the guest room down the hall and Steve in his, but there’s part of Steve that doesn’t want this moment to end, doesn’t want to leave Billy alone, especially when he’s finally opening up to Steve.

“Guess we should go to bed, huh?” Billy mutters, eyelids drooping a bit.

“Yeah, sure.” Steve guesses that the decision was made for him. 

They head upstairs and Steve shoves a pair of sweatpants and an old varsity t-shirt into Billy’s hands, points out the bathroom and where they keep the extra toothbrushes and shows Billy to the guest room. Steve lingers in the doorway for a moment while Billy starts pulling off his leather jacket, tossing it on the armchair in the corner of the room. 

“So,” he starts. “If you… I don’t know, _ need _ anything, I’m just down the hall. If I’m asleep just wake me up.” _ I’m here for you _ he wants to say. 

Billy picks up the t-shirt of the bed and holds it tight in his hand. “Cool.”

Steve nods back, tries to do so in a cool, nonchalant way. “Cool, cool. Um. Night.” He nods one more time before heading back to his room. 

Once he gets there, he flops face first on his bed and breathes, inwardly kicking himself for not saying what he really wants to, for wanting weird things, for feeling alone even when Billy’s just down the hall. He lays there for a minute before resigning himself to get up and shut off the lights. When he sits up, though, Billy’s leaning in the doorway and Steve startles. 

“Whoa, there, Harrington. Didn’t mean to spook ya.” Billy takes a tentative step into Steve’s room and stops. “Listen.”

Steve holds his breath.

“I just… I don’t know this place and like, I don’t know if that’ll just make the nightmares worse or _ what, _so like, I thought maybe if, you know… I stayed in here with you. Maybe that’d be. Better.”

Steve can’t really believe his ears because this is _ Billy _ and there’s no version of Billy that would ever say this to _ anyone_, let alone Steve. But somehow, Billy’s real and right there and saying this while wearing Steve’s sweats and - 

“Or whatever, just forget about it,” Billy rushes out, before making to turn away.

“No! No,” Steve says. “Sorry. That’s cool. I mean, like, that’d be cool.”

Steve gets up and pulls back the covers on his bed before grabbing some sweats from his dresser and rushing to the bathroom to change, brushing his teeth with a little more vigour than usual. When he comes back, Billy’s in his bed, covers up towards his chin, turned away from Steve and facing the window. Steve shuts off the light and tentatively crawls into the other side of the bed. He lays flat on his back and stares at the ceiling, careful not to breathe too heavily or move, even though his heart is kinda sorta _ racing. _

“Um,” Steve says. “You warm enough?”

“... Yeah.”

“You don’t need any more pillows or anything?”

“I’m fine, Harrington.”

“‘Cause like, I could get you some more if you needed -”

“_Jesus_,” Billy huffs out, flipping over to face Steve. “I’m fine. Really.” 

Steve turns his head to look at Billy, seeing the moonlight shining through the window, enough to make out the features on Billy’s face, to see that he’s not smiling, per se, but not frowning. “Right. Okay.” Steve releases some of the tension in his shoulders and sinks further into the pillows.

“Gotta say, pretty boy,” Billy says, before bringing his hands out of the covers to pick at his nails. “This bed’s fuckin’ _ nice. _ Soft as shit.”

It’s so dark and it’s late and Billy’s face is washed in moonlight, so Steve lets his guard down, doesn’t mind showing his hand a bit. “I hope it helps you sleep.” 

Steve watches Billy’s hands still for a moment, before picking up again. “Yeah, well,” Billy whispers. “The bed’s nice. Company’s better.” He stops picking at his nails so he can start biting at them with his teeth. 

Steve is emboldened by the dark, by the beer and cigarettes and Billy’s face _ right there_, and turns further towards Billy, grabs the hand he’s biting the nails of, using his hand to pin Billy’s on the bed between them. “Would you stop that?” Steve says, and he lets himself chuckle softly. 

But he feels Billy freeze a bit, sees the way his eyes widen a bit, even in the darkness of the room. Probably because they’ve gotten so close, close like Billy lighting his cigarette.

“Steve,” Billy breathes out in a whisper, barely-there between them. Steve notes the way that he finally called him by his name. “You gotta know. My old man… you know why he hated me, right?” 

Steve doesn’t know, doesn’t know how anyone could hate Billy, at least hate Billy like _ that, _violent and visceral and unforgiving. He shakes his head, grips Billy’s hand a little tighter. 

“Fuck,” Billy whispers. “It’s ‘cause I’m a fucking fag, alright?” He averts his eyes away from Steve’s, and Steve just wants them back, wants their moment back. “So, you know,” Billy continues, wiggling his fingers slightly under Steve’s hand.

But Steve just grips tighter. “Hey, _ hey_,” he whispers back. “It’s cool.” Billy sighs. “Really, I mean it,” Steve continues. Billy’s still not looking at him and Steve just wants him to _ look at him _ because he _ gets it_, so he shuffles impossibly closer, relaxes his hand so he can thread his fingers through Billy’s a bit. At this, Billy and his big blue eyes look back up at him. “It’s cool. Okay?” Steve breathes out at last, frightened and excited, voice _ wrecked. _

Then Billy is shuffling closer, too, just a little bit, the tip of his cold nose brushing against Steve’s hand accidentally. “Okay,” Billy says. “Thanks.”

“Listen, I didn’t like, ask you over because of that,” Steve rushes out. “Well, not like, _ just _ because of that,” and at that Billy kinda _ smiles, _ small and bashful but Steve can see it clear as day. “But because like. I just… feel so alone most of the time. And I know you do to. You don’t have to say it. But with you it’s like … I don’t know. It’s nice that we can be, like, alone _ together_, you know?”

“Alone together?” Billy chuckles. “Don’t those things cancel each other out?” Steve feels Billy’s shuffles, feels his bare toes run along his calf. 

“Whatever,” Steve says, running his thumb slowly across Billy’s hand. “You know what I mean.”

“Yeah. Yeah I do. You’re right. It’s. Nice.” Billy whispers before yawning, turning his head to yawn against their joined hands. 

Joined together and warm under the covers, they fall asleep, and for the first time in a long time, they both make it through the night. 

**Author's Note:**

> Why set up Billy to be SO GAY in season 2 then do him so dirty in season 3? I'm mad about it. 
> 
> Anyways, between reading lots of Billy/Steve fic and obsessively listening to Norman Fucking Rockwell! I just really wanted to write some fluffy Harringrove with a Lana title. So, here's that.


End file.
